


if i should die and You

by ImperialEvolution



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Does Emily Dickenson know i love her?, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, POV Second Person, Poetic rambling, This is very short, ft. warren uhauling it like the best of lesbians a big gay crisis and daniel being smol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialEvolution/pseuds/ImperialEvolution
Summary: If I should die,And you should live,And time should gurgle on…- Emily Dickinson, If I should die (57)
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	if i should die and You

**Author's Note:**

> CW/TW: Discussions of death and dying, discussions of violence.
> 
> Safe reading, everyone! <3

There is little doubt in your mind that you’ll see the end of Daniel Jacobi’s life. It’s not that he’s stupid—Daniel is a lot of things but stupid has never been one of them; in fact, he’s one of the most tremendously intelligent men you’ve had the honour of knowing. He’s adaptable and dependable, and that alone is more than enough to make you trust him with the cavity you’ve made of your chest, with your whole life.

No, he knows better than to make mistakes.

The problem arises, however, that the way he’s kissing you now is not a mistake. You can taste him, like blood in your mouth, and all you can feel is crushing fear in the rags of your ribcage, that absolute certainty that he is going to die.

It’s nothing you haven’t faced before. You stare it dead in the eye every time the two of you leave on missions, twofold if Maxwell is with you.

But he’s kissing you.

He’s never done that before.

His hands are calloused again the stubble of your jaw, ever so sweetly pulling you down to him. (You’re pretty sure he’s on his tiptoes. God, you could pick him up and put him in your pocket, he’s so small.) But that’s not the point.

He pulls back, drops back to his heels, but his hands don’t leave your face.

“Sir?” he whispers, the gravel crunching underfoot. “I—are you okay?”

You’ve always known he was going to die. It’s the nature of the world and the nature of this job. But never with such ferocity have you  _ known _ it.

Jacobi’s hands are gone as quickly as they came, and god alive it is cold.

You blink away the urge to bring him back to you. (He is not stupid, but you are another matter entirely.)

“Sir?”

He’s wide-eyed, his hands hanging in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

He kissed you.

He is going to die before you, you're so sure of it.

You are going to get him killed.

“Daniel,” you call him  _ Daniel _ , and you want to kiss him so badly, but you won’t. (You wouldn’t be complaining if he kissed you again though.)

It shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but you long for the days when you can leave this ramshackle life behind you, when you can leave behind the cavity behind your ribcage and let him fill that hole in your chest. Days when you can breathe together.

You've never claimed to be a poet, but the feeling in your chest, like  _ if I should die and you should live _ —and god alive you never dared dream a life with him, but life is here, in this faltering breath, with him.

You take his hands. They look ridiculous hanging in the air like that.

The hitching of his breath stutters clouds into the air, but you hardly notice against the heat flowing back into your veins. (You consider yourself very lucky to be among the few who have the pleasure of knowing that Jacobi just runs warm, rare though it is to feel it like this.)

Actually, no.

No, you don’t think he will die before you do.

(Jacobi might be kissing you but you leaned in first this time. You drop his hands, only to find them in his hair instead, at his waist, anywhere you can forgive yourself for touching with your frost tipped fingers.)

You know that this? His arm over your shoulders, the awkward bump of your noses? He will die for this.

Would.

_Won’t_.

You won’t let him.

You decide that if you have to see the day he dies, then you will live in the meantime to carve from your chest a place the two of you can just  _ breathe _ .

He breaks away, the air in his lungs escaping in a breathy laugh. “Oh my god,” he whispers, resting his head against your chest, and you’ve half a mind to agree.

He looks at you, really  _ looks _ at you, and oh, you won’t be forgetting that for as long as you live.

You think you want to tell him you love him.

“I—” it catches in your throat, like an apology or a prayer, so you don’t tell him. Hell, you don’t even know it’s true! But, one day, maybe it will be. “We should get going, Jacobi.”

He just grins at you, a soft flash of teeth, and you think he might just know.

Someday, someday you will breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, quick programming note! Uni has officially started for the year, which is great! But it means that I will be horribly busy, so updates will be very sparse over the coming semester. That said, I have some wips I am planning on posting soon; both of which are multi chaps. The first soon be posted within the month and is Shakespeare themed! I'm excited to share it, tbh!
> 
> As always, stay safe, comments are my lifeblood, and hit me up on tumblr @imperial-evolution for updates! :D


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